Attacked Massively

Last night, I got to cross one of my life's goals off that invisible to-do list. After an eight-year absence, trip-hop pioneers Massive Attack came back to America, came to Seattle, came to remind everyone of their elegant urban aural sculptures that court nightmares and love, riding techno and reggae backbones like it was no big deal.

I never thought I'd see MA in the states. Delays, side projects, long departures from the studios, they all kept the Bristol band from touring beyond European confines. The closest I got was my iPod crammed with everything the band ever did. To me, they were a studio entity, generating lusty shadows and haunting listeners with packs of animals that fed on alternative waves of dread or mad love. To have them on a stage, crafting their lush orchestrations, I wasn't sure it was possible.

My wife and I made it in to The Paramount and huddled on the main floor, about five layers of humanity away from the stage barrier, close enough to see the whites of the singers' eyes, close to enough to worry about performers sweating on us. We waited through an awkward hour of a guest DJ, spinning teched-out reggae tracks to a crowd who operated on the same Borg channel: It's been eight years. Get off the stage. One long hour passed, and the DJ bowed in thanks to relieved applause. His kit was broken down, and MA's stage-set (two drum kits, one bass, one guitar, five mikes upfront lined up like chess pawns) were groomed by roadies. We waited, we cat-called, we hollered.

Darkness. And then the first notes of "False Flags" hit the air. The wall of lights from the back of the stage shimmered as flags waving in electronic breezes. Lush and moody, intentional intense without posing. It was my iPod exploding and wrapping around me in light and sonic assault. I fell back to 1992, when I first heard "Unfinished Sympathy" while waking up on Houston morning. MA stepped forward out of the darkness, bringing their own audio humidity with them, filling the theater with something dark and haunting, powerful, wonderful. Yeah, this was it.

A good show all around, but it was plagued by mic problems from the start. The singers, five in total (including reggae legend Horace Andy and Cocteau Twins goddess Elizabeth Fraser), all looked off their game, awkward from either technical problems or from trying to shake the rust off their haunches after nearly three years of not being Massive Attack. The band itself was tight, fierce but coordinated, capable of making themselves impressively loud on showstoppers like "Safe from Harm" and "Group Four." I imagine once they get a couple more live shows down, they'll be fantastic. Seattle was the first show of its world tour, and I can only think that this was that one awkward show where all the kinks come out, a stumble, a trip, then a soaring. Rumor has it they'll be back through the states (they are only making three American stops this time around) in September. I don't know if I'm going again. I'm awestruck that I this close to MA. I was within 10 yards of the people behind "Unfinished Sympathy," "Teardrop" and "Future Proof." Flaws aside, drunk pushy twits forgotten, it was amazing, even a little life affirming as Fraser whispered the opening lines of "Teardrop" to a main floor crowd who sung along with tears and smiles.

One more thing, Massive Attack is touring pretty much for themselves at this point. There's a new album due out next year, but nothing was revealed from it last night. MA has a greatest hits album, which just hit stores. Wonderful, except I'd wager the crowd in attendance had everything the band ever did. Which leaves the realization that MA came out late night to be themselves, and we were there to celebrate, to cheer, to say thank you in the ways fans do, but raised hands (or lit cellphones) in praise. I got to hear "Teardrop" from Fraser's own lips. Heaven.